


Thoughts Before Sleeping

by A_Writing_Pen



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:06:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5537576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Writing_Pen/pseuds/A_Writing_Pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Fenris had the chance to confront Hawke before he left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoughts Before Sleeping

“You haven’t answered Varric yet.” Fenris said and Hawke stopped dead in his tracks, hand still on the door that lead out of the sheep smelling room that passed for an inn this far into the countryside. For a moment Hawke thought about what lie he would tell and Fenris knew it. By now he knew the little tells, even the ones Hawke himself didn’t know about that always gave him away, and also when Hawke thought those lies wouldn’t work.

“How do you know about that?”

“I read your damned letters.” Fenris was still holding his side and only partially masking the pain from his injured ribs.

They had been ambushed, the bandits that camped in the hills had gotten the better of them because they had been careless. The increasing efforts of the Templars and Chantry’s search for them had forced the two off the Imperial Highway far sooner they expected. To remain free, they had to traverse the less traveled paths, places where the merchants only dared to go if they were stupid or desperate and apparently where bandits went to hide with their goods. They sacrificed caution for time and found themselves facing off a well-armed and angry thief den. Low on supplies and stamina, they managed to hobble to the only inn along this stretch of countryside, Fenris nursing a nasty gash and broken ribs from a badly placed pommel strike and Hawke with a bleeding cut to the eye and his mana depleted from the fight and healing his and Fenris’s wounds. The spell had helped some, but not enough that the fracture he certainly had could be healed.

The town was small and no doubt there was already whispers of the strange and bloodied guests who arrived before dark. They would have to leave by sunrise before the rumors spread enough to catch the ear of their pursuers or anyone hungry enough for the bounty on their heads. If either of them left now in the dead of night, injured and exhausted, then they would either be captured or killed later on the road. The few stolen hours here were vital, but that was not their biggest concern at the moment.

“It’s not-“ Fenris didn’t give him the chance to recover.

“I am not a fool. You were the one who taught me to read. I know what it said.” His voice was so full of anger that not even the faint wheezing could make his voice waver. “How were you going to go about leaving?”

“Maker.” Was all that Hawke could say, covering his eyes with his gauntleted hand. “I don’t need this now.”

Fenris was about to start again, but this time Hawke cut him off, “Which letter?”

“All of them.” Fenris said. The pause stretched longer between them.

Hawke’s face twisted in anger, but whether it was directed at Fenris or himself, he was unable to tell, then Hawke clenched his teeth and shut hid eyes forcing himself to remain calm.

“And you never said anything.” Fenris was not sure if Hawke was asking him or restating the fact to himself.

“I was waiting for you to tell me.”

Hawke breathed deeply.

The room was cold, but no longer because of the early winter chill that seeped into the night air. Hawke reached into his pack and removed health potion, then handed it to Fenris. The bottle was empty.

“You still need supplies for your wounds.”

“I’ve dealt with worse and our pursuers are still searching for us. You’re a mage, once you recover enough mana I’ll be fine.”

“I think Andraste is about to rise from her ashes because I just heard you say you were thankful for magic.”

“This is no laughing matter, Hawke.”

“Neither are your injuries or the fact that we’re no safer here than out there.”

They locked angry eyes with each other, the tense moment only broken when Hawke finally relented after by backing away from the door and walking over to lean on the wall adjacent to the bed.

“Varric told me about the increasing red lyrium sightings.” Hawke said, admitting it as if every tooth in his head had to be pulled out first.

“I know.” Fenris said. Hawke tensed, preparing for another argument.

“I needed to know for myself.” Hawke said, waiting for a moment before continuing again. “We hardly know anything, much less-”

“-how it would affect my markings.” Fenris finished. Hawke nodded. He thought that left it there, but Fenris continued. “Markings or no, you are hardly any safer than I.”

Fenris shifted, trying to hide the wince as he ignored the pain from his ribs. Hawke stepped closer to help him, but Fenris settled himself before that was needed. Instead Hawke started preparing a spell for healing magic, but Fenris raised a hand to stop him, telling him to conserve his mana in case they truly needed it. Only at Fenris’s urging did he relent.

“I did not want to lose you.” Hawke said at last.

“I risk losing you every night.” Fenris said.

For the second time, Hawke was at a loss for words, mouth still open as whatever retort died on his lips. He was stunned for a moment before he realized what he meant. The room was small, stiflingly small and he thought was that this hovel should not be the site of what he dreaded most.

“Fenris, I-”

“I understand that you are capable and that there is nothing I can do when you are in the fade, yet I do not try to stop you from dreaming every night.” Hawke watched carefully, in the way he always did when he was thinking over his options while trying to surmise if the situation was going in his favor or not. “There will always be a danger,” Fenris continued, “yet I do not stop you.” Hawke looked away.

“It’s not the same.” Hawke said.

“Yes, because you deny me my choice in the matter!” Pain or not, the glare Fenris leveled at him was so fierce, Hawke wondered for a moment if the man was angry enough to lunge at him.

“It won’t matter if your wounds becomes aggravated.” Hawke raised his hands in frustration and headed back to the door Louder than he should, he cursed under his breath. He heard footsteps shuffle behind him with a few pained grunts.

“You never listen to me.” He turned, unsurprised, to find Fenris standing behind him, still clutching at his injured side and the bandage around him falling loose. Waiting for permission he held his hand out inches away from the other’s cheek, and when he allowed, ran his hand affectionately across his cheek to his shoulder.

“Why should I?” His voice was softer, but neither fully in jest or severity, as he tilted his head into Hawke’s palm as he ran his hand along his cheek again. “Don’t leave.” He said.

Hawke did not move, instead he kept his hand Fenris’s cheek. Then there was a faint glow and Fenris felt the effects of healing magic course through his body as his damaged ribs began to knit together. When the familiar aura disappointed, there was still a dull ache in his side but the gash had healed and he could breathe without his chest feeling aflame. From experience he knew he had to avoid further blows to the area until it healed naturally, but it was far better than it had been before. Hawke took his hand away and pinched the bridge of his know, grimacing at the headache he now felt from draining the last of his mana reserves.

“I’m feeling tired.” Hawke said, “I don’t think we’ll need the supplies for the moment.”

Without another word he walked over to the bed looking wearier than he had before. Fenris followed him, being careful of his injured side as he lay down, and like every other night in the moments before sleep, he worried if when the morning arrived he would find himself alone.


End file.
